Detergent
by EmuFrost
Summary: One choice determines your friends... One choice defines you beliefs... One choice decides your loyalties... Forever... One choice can transform you! Dustless, Odorite, Laundrity, Cleandor, or Bathnegation. You choose. (The cover picture was done by somebody on some website, so if it's yours sorry, it's a cool picture.)
1. One Sink

There is only one sink in our house. It's usually hidden behind a curtain in the bathroom. Our faction only allows me to wash my hands on the third day of every two months. A lot can happen to your hands in two months. I scrub soap around each of my fingers carefully to make sure they come out clean. I scrub slowly. The rule is after your hands are clean, the water is shut off and you have to wait another two months. Stalling gives me extra time to feel the water rushing down over my hands. Smoothing all the calluses from molding soap all day.

"Beatide?" I notice my mother standing in the door of the bathroom. I sigh.

"Guilty as charged," I say. She nods disapprovingly at my sparkling clean hands. I shut off the water.

"It should only take you two or three minutes to wash," she says "You just used all of my washing time."

"Sorry!" She turns and heads back downstairs.

"Hey! Aren't you going to wash?" I call after her. No response. I feel guilty about using her water. I'm not exactly an example citizen in our faction, Bathnegation. Not like my Mother at all or Caleb, my perfect brother. Most Bathnegation citizen have the same quality, selflessness. Something I've spent all 16 years of my life working to get. I walk to my room on our creaking wooden floor full of splinters. At least it's clean. Just like everything else in this vapid world. I examine the contents of my closet. It looks like a lump of navy cloth hung on a rack. All of my clothes are navy. I pick out a dress that falls just above my ankles. The sleeves hang of my hands so I roll them up. I twist my hair up into a sloppy bun. Appearance was never something I ever worried about. Everybody in Bathnegation looks the same, but today 16 year olds from all of the factions will join to take the aptitude test. Satisfied with my outfit, I skip down the stairs. Excitement is overflowing in me, the aptitude test is coming.

•••

The aptitude testing room is packed with teenagers. Caleb and I find a seat next to the rest of the Bathnegation children. I'm not familiar with any of them. All my life I molded soap, never even thought about going to play. It's obvious to tell which children are from which faction. The Cleandor faction is dressed in silver and white. The Cleandors mainly focus on laundry soap. So all of their clothing is in pristine shape. The Laundrity are peaceful folks. Dressed in mainly lime green. All day they use Cleandor laundry soap to gently scrub clothing. Boring! The Odorite's have the worst job of all. The spend all day working on deoderant. Which means only every two months, they actually get to apply it. The Dustless dress in mostly black to show the color of all the dust they clean. The Dustless are brave, venturing into the darkest of corners to scrub dust away. All of the Dustless girls have short skimpy dresses that barley cover their thighs. I suddenly feel uncomfortable looking at them and roll down the sleeves on my plain dress.

It takes about an hour for the officials to give the aptitude test to all of the kids finally, they call my name.

"Beatide Prior?" I stand up and smooth my dress. A woman leads me into a small dark room.

"I'm Squeaky," she says. I have to cover my mouth to stop from laughing at her name.

"Yes, Squeaky, as in Squeaky clean," she says. "Don't worry, I get that a lot. Although I'd expect a little more respect from a Bathnegation born child."

"Sorry I-"

"I'm kidding! Now, we have to start testing. Please sit here." She indicates a large tan chair. I nervously slide in. Squeaky fits a brace around my head. She also attaches a wire from the brace to a computer screen. It flickers to life.

"See this? I can see everything that goes on in your mind on this screen."

"A simulation" I understand.

"Yes, drink this" She hands me a small vial of some serum. I swallow it down. It tastes horrible, but the taste disappears fast as my eyelids start to droop.

"Good luck!" she says. And with a click of a button the brace snaps shut and my mind goes blank.

•••

I open my eyes to find myself in a small gray room. There's a table with a bar of soap and a washing board. I stare at both.

"Please chose," a loud feminine voice says. I look at each. Somehow my body doesn't want to work with my mind, I can't pick!

"Now!" the voice says. I start towards both, but I can't chose.

"Fine." the voice says. A large dog appears in the corner of the room. Drool pours out of his mouth. He's smacking his lips at me. Or something behind me. I turn to see a small washing machine. The dog crouches down to pounce. It leaps towards us. I dive in front of the washing machine. Why did I chose to defend the washing machine? I don't know. A new simulation appears. I'm on a bus traveling down a dirt road. A man is sitting next to me smacking on some chewing gum and reading the paper.

"Oi, you heard about this nonsense?" he asks me. He shows me a news article about a robber who took all of the soap from a faction. Without even reading it I know that I know who the culprit is.

"I- I- guess I" I stutter over the words. "I don't know!" He nods and goes back to reading. There's a flash of light and I open my eyes again. I'm back in the testing room. Squeaky looks at me. Her mouth is wide open and staring at me.

"How did I do?" I ask. She rushes to my side.

"Listen," she whispers "You'd better not tell anybody what I'm about tell you." I nod "This test, it's meant to see how each child fits into the factions. For instance if you were Laundrity you would've chose the washing board."

"But I didn't!" I say.

"Shshshsh!" She hushes me. "There's only a few people, quite rare, who get the results you did."

"What am I?" I ask.

"Well, usually I'm not allowed to tell, but Beatide, you have to know. You don't fit into a faction."

"I'm factionless?"

"No no no. Worse. Well, sort of. You fit into three factions. Dustless, Bathnegation, and Odorite. It means, you have a gift, you're detergent. Long ago when the factions were created, there was talk of a legendary substance called detergent. Some people are just born with it in their blood, like you. The detergent makes you almost invincible, like a cleaning machine!"

"Is this a bad thing?" Now I'm starting to worry.

"Well no, but the leaders, they don't like detergents, they mess up the system. You have to promise not to tell anybody. When the Choosing Ceremony comes, make the right decision."

I nod. She gestures me out of the room. We walk down the halls in silence. Back to my brother, Caleb, who seems quite happy about his results, but the rest of the world is a blur. Only Squeaky's words echo in my mind. "It means you have a gift, **you are detergent**.


	2. The Newest Dustless

I choose to walk home to avoid having to discuss my results with anybody. My old navy sneakers making a steady pattern on the hard concrete. No matter how boring it sounds, the Bathnegation lifestyle looks appealing when you're walking next to it, but when your in it, somehow I don't get the same positive vibe. I keep my head low and try to clear my mind, but the one word still floats in my head. I try to push it back, but it sneaks it's way back up every time. Detergent. In my blood. I was born with it. It doesn't make sense. Why doesn't Caleb have it? Or does he? Are we both dangers to society?

"Excuse me?" I halt to look at a factionless man crouching on the sidewalk. "Would you have anything for me to wash with in that pretty sack of yours, deaire?" The word, no, almost slips out of my mouth, but the Bathnegation people have taught me a little. I slip my hand into my satchel and pull out a fresh bar of soap. He takes the soap and smells it. Then licks it. I start to walk again, but he calls after me.

"Aren't you young to be walking alone on the streets?"

"I'm 16!" I snap at him. The man was getting on my nerves. He disregards my cruel tone of voice and keeps talking.

"Ah, don't forget, tomorrow's a special day for you, choose wisely. After all one choice will change the way you wash forever." I half-smile at him and continue past. With the detergent in my blood I could choose almost whatever I want. I sigh. My results are supposed to be secret. No matter what I choose the detergent must never show.

•••

My watch reads 5:43pm. My parents will probably be worried by now. I quicken my pace as my small house comes into view. I burst through the door. Caleb, Mother, and Father are all sitting around the dinner table.

"Beatide!" Father says.

"I'm fine! I just wanted to walk home,"I say. He nods approvingly. After we scrub our hands with soap, the food is distributed equally and the leftovers are carefully set aside for later, we start the meal.

"Tell me, what's troubling you?" Mother asks Father. Caleb and I keep our heads low, according to the rule children shouldn't speak unless spoken to, as always, Soap before People. It's a stupid rule. When the five factions were created after the Great Soap War, the leaders decided that cleanliness was the answer to no blood be spilled anywhere. I guess they took it to the extreme and now my whole life is based on bubbles and suds!

Mother and Father continue their quite conversation about Cleandor.

"What?" I say. Caleb raises his eyebrows at me. "I wanna know what yur talking about"

"Beatide, don't speak with your mouth full." my mother says.

"Well," Father starts "We were discussing the Odorite ruler" I swallow my food. J'clean Matthews. Probably the most well known soap genius of the century. They say she created the washing machine!

"J'clean started a horrible rumor about Marcsuds. She says the reason his son, Tubias, left Bathnegation for Dustless is that Marcsuds was such a horrible soap molder, that Tubias couldn't stand it." Father says. I almost choke on the potatoes. It's very rare that somebody chooses to leave Bathnegation. When they do, everybody makes a huge deal about it. I suddenly feel my stomach drop, replaced by a pit of guilt. If I chose to leave Bathnegation it will dishonor my family. Maybe nobody will buy their soap, they could become factionless.

"May I be excused, Mother?" I ask. She nods. I clear my plate and scrub it down with some soap that Caleb molded yesterday. Raspberry scented. The gulity pit in my stomach grows bigger and bigger. Every second I spent takes me closer and closer to the moment I will have to chose my fate. I put the plate back on the shelf and go to bed. Tomorrow is the Choosing Ceremony. Most kids have it easy. They know exactly where they what they want to wash for the rest of there life. What am I supposed to do? It's not like I can chose all three factions that Squeaky told me. I have to chose one, but no matter what I do I will always be detergent.

"Hey," Caleb walks into my room.

"How did your test go?" I ask.

"Good, I guess," he says.

"Do you think you'll stay." I ask him.

"I don't know Beatide, sometimes we just have to think about ourselves, how we want to wash."

•••

"Welcome to the Choosing Cermony!" Marcsuds stands on the podium and speaks loudly into a microphone. "Standing before you are this year's 16 year olds. Ahead of them, is a very tough choice. Whatever they do with the washing supplies layed in front of them will determine their friends, beliefs, loyalties, and most of all, how they wash every day. Their choices, Bathnegation, where washing your hands isn't frequent. Nevertheless, they have supplied us with bars and bars and bars of soap. Cleandor-" My head tunes out as he describes the 5 factions. Considering each option, but throwing away as quick as it enters my mind. My brain is turning to mush as he keeps talking. Bathnegation, Cleandor, Dustless, Odorite, Laundrity. No! They all sound good. I want to be in all of them! I want to be detergent! Let the world know! NO!

The first girl is called. She stumbles up to the stage in a green Laundrity dress. Carefully, she picks up the washing board and smiles. That means she's decided to stick with her faction. The crowd claps polietly. More Laundrity children go. Most stay, but a few transfer. Even two transfered to Dustless. Next comes the Cleandor kids. The majority of them transfer. Cleandors are known for doing what _they_ want. One child takes 5 minutes and ends up choosing the soap mold, Bathnegation. Soap before People, Soap before People, but which soap? I can't choose!

"Beatide Prior, from Bathnegation" my heart stops. Are they actually calling my name? Caleb nudges me.

"Go," he whispers. I stand up. My knees wobble. Just one foot in front of the other. OK that's one step. One more, yes. I am at the podium. Layed out in front of me are 5 objects. A soap mold, a washing board, a model of a washing machine, a duster, and a stick of deoderant. I reach out my hand towards the soap mold, but then pull it back. Suddenly my hand jerks forward, I can't even remember if I wanted it too, but it grabs the duster.

"NO!" I yell. The crowd gasps. I just transfered myself in to Dustless. A Bathnegation into Dustless. The guilty pit in my stomach has expanded over my whole body. I sit back down. It's Caleb's turn. He strides up to the table and grabs the deoderant. I can't believe it. Mom and Dad must be crushed. Losing both of their kids. I look at them in the crowd. Dad's face is stern, but Mom is forcing a smile. Caleb takes his seat next to me. The Choosing Ceremony goes by really fast, or maybe that's just the guilty pit taking over my brain. I can't think. When we are asked to join our factions, I can barely walk. A tear drips our of my eye. I brush it away quickly. I am Dustless now, Dustless don't cry.


	3. Stain

The Dustless crowd takes the stairs away from the Choosing Ceremony. We start slowly, but then the crowd starts yelling. Screaming with joy and sliding down the banisters. I manage to plaster a smile onto my face and keep up with the crowd. A Dustless born pushes past me. He looks at my plain navy clothes and snorts.

"Looks like a little Stain decided to join us!" he yells. Stain. I frown. I've heard people use that word before, but never to me. Bigger factions like Odorite and Dustless call the Bathnegation, Stains. I guess it's an insult. A mark that's stuck on an article of clothing, but refuses to leave. I turn to reply to him, but he's already at the front of the pack yelling like the rest of them. By the time we reach the door I am exhausted! The leader takes us to a room filled with doors, but there's only a few. Not enough for all of us. He passes out dusters. That's when I notice the filth of the room. Dust is packed almost up to our knees.

"Go!" he says. Everybody else seems to be cleaning the dust trying to get to a door. I spot a door that looks like nobody's going for it and swipe at the dust furiously. I cough and choke at the little particles flying everywhere. Almost there... There's another girl going for the same door I am. I dive for the door, grab the door knob and wrench it open. The door slams and locks behind me. She pounds on the door, still trapped in the dust room. I feel awful and almost open the door, but this is a competition. Only the best dusters get to stay in Dustless. I take in my surroundings again. We're standing on the edge of a railroad. A train is coming in the distance. Wind rushes by blowing my blonde hair into my face.

"What the mud is going on?" a Cleandor boy yells.

"I don't know!" I yell back. A few Dustless born sprint at the train and jump safely into one of the cars. I curse under my breath. This is nothing like Bathnegation buses. The train is almost gone. A girl from Candor reaches her arm out of one of the cars.

"Hey!" she yells. I sprint as hard as I can and grasp her hand. It's slippery from sweat, but I manage to get a foothold and she pulls me up.

"Thanks," I say. She nods. Her hair is a dark midnight black color which gently falls around her round face. She has chocolatey brown skin and dark hazel eyes.

"My name's Pristina, Cleandor," she says. "Yeah, Pristina like pristine! Apparently my parents wanted me to be the best washer in the world. So, their solution was to name me something clean sounding."

"I'm Beatide. Not sure where the name comes from, Bathnegation," I say. She laughs a little. I'm not in the mood for laughing. I can't stop thinking about the Ceremony. The look on my father's face and Caleb! Joining Odorite! I can't even think. Suddenly a boy next to us leaps out of the train. Pristina screams. Then I see it. Everybody is jumping off the train onto a 7 story building. This is a test.

"Holy Filth!" she yells.

"C'mon," I grab her hand "On the count of three... 1" The building is getting closer and closer...

"2" It's coming too fast!

"3!" I extend my arms and legs as far as they can reach and soar through the air. For a moment I look down 7 stories, I am flying... SLAM. My feet hit the concrete roof top. Not exactly the most graceful landing, but I made it. Pristina looks ok. The last car of the train passes, an Laundrity boy leaps. He falls short grasping onto the ledge I pull myself up to try to help him, but his knuckles turn white as his hand disappears and he falls...

•••

I gasp. Another one, dead.

Pain shoots through my right leg.

"Ow ow ow ow!" I say.

"If you think that's hard you're a long way from home, Stain." a big muscly boy behind me says. The same boy who called me Stain the first time.

"My name is Beatide," I snap at him. He tilts his head. Just the slightest bit, but it makes a cracking noise. I wish I could say I wasn't intimidated, but I was.

"I don't care what your name is, _Stain_. You don't belong here. You're gonna die. So, be a good little Stain and run along to the factionless," he says. He turns around to leave, but then turns around for a second.

"Oh, in case you were wondering, my name is Greaser. Remember it. It's the name of the person who will crush you smaller than a piece of dust." I catch my breath and stumble over to Pristina.

"Alright! Regroup!" the leader yells. "Congrats, you made it this far, now, the real test." I try to swallow my fear down, but it gets caught in my throat. He gestures to the other ledge. I look down. It's just a dark pit. He shrugs and looks at the rest of us like we're supposed to know what to do. Does he expect us to commit suicide? Then I realize. This is a test of bravery. To see who really belongs here. I remember Greaser's words. "You don't belong here. You're gonna die." I do belong, because this is the faction I chose. I carefully pull myself up onto the ledge, my legs still are sore from the jump to the roof . I stare down in the the abyss below me. Without thinking I do the best and stupidest thing that I have ever done in my whole life. I step forward.

There's nothing there to step on.

•••

Darkness. That's the only thing I remember. It was dark, it was cold, and I was scared. But then... I saw a light. Coming faster and faster. Describing how fast I was falling is almost impossible. Below me I finally saw what would be my doom. At the bottom of this "pit" was a pool. I pulled my arms to my chest and with a thud I landed. It should've killed me, but it didn't. It wasn't a pool of water! It was a pool full of dust. I poke my head up from the dust and scream. Not a scream of terror, but a scream of fun and joy. Then I hear laughter and I hoist myself out of the pool. A crowd of Dustless greet me.

"First jumper congrats!"

"Good job!"

"You're off to a great start!" I sigh. This is only the start. I look around. It's very dark, but a few lights make it light enough so I could see everyone. This must be the Dustless Compound.

"3 cheers for umm- what's your name?" one man says. I smile. I'm not Beatide anymore. Beatide wouldn't be the first to jump off a 7 story building.

"Tide," I say. "My name is Tide." I hear more poofs of dust as more kids jump. I find Pristina covered in dust.

"You're covered in dust." I say. She raises her eyebrows.

"_I'm_ covered in dust?" I look down at my own clothes. Caked in dark gray dust particles. I shrug.

"Nice Job," a voice from behind me says. I turn around. A boy about 18 is standing next to me. He was tall with light brown hair. He had a nice smile.

"My name is Floor. Welcome to Dustless."


	4. Grubby and Greaser

Floor leads all the remaining transfers on a quick tour around the headquarters. I guess I never thought about what Dustless would look like, it's very dark, but it has a light feel to it hidden behind all the dust. After explaining the millions of rooms he leads us to... the chasm. It's about a 20 foot drop straight down into a rushing river. Only guarded by a few rails. It looks harmless. Nothing compared to what I jumped off earlier.

"You think it looks harmless?" Floor asks in his deep young voice. I laugh. He chuckles too. A nice gentle laugh.

"Just wait" he says. He draws a small bar of soap from his jacket pocket.

"See this?" he asks. I nod. Bathnegation style soap, about 3 by 2 inches, lemon flavored? It's a pretty nice mold. With that, he tosses it over the rail with a gentle flick of his wrist. The soap barley hits the water before it explodes. A few people gasp. It's definitely not water.

"It's all the waste from malfunctioning soap products. All the chemicals build up, combined with the speed, it's a pretty deadly mix. C'mon," he says. "We're going to start training in the morning. Better get some rest."

•••

The next morning comes faster than I even fell asleep. I could barely fall asleep anyways listen to the soft cries of Ble (pronounced like bull, bub-ble). Nobody knows really much about Ble. I thought he was a big tough Dustless, I guess not. I wake up and start to put on some clothes that the Dustless provided. A skin tight black t shirt and some combat pants and boots. I squeeze it all on.

"Wow! Where'd my Bathnegation Buddy go?" Pristina says "Aren't you going to wash your hands?" I stare, shocked.

"You know we're allowed to wash our hands, whenever we want?" She says. I smile. This is amazing. Whenever we want? I look at my hands. They could use a quick touch up after all that dust yesterday. She shakes her head.

"Sometimes you really do act like a Stain," she says.

"Ha Ha," I say sarcastically. Then I find the sink. Warm cool water finds it way into all the cracks of my scratched hands. I love it. The soap here is also fantastic. It comes out of a dispenser! Not a bar! A dispenser! I dry my fresh hands and return to my bed.

Somebody has put graffitied my covers. There's a splotch of brown paint all over the covers. A Stain. Greaser! He now has a little posse to do the messy work for him. Greaser and Grubby, a giant transfer, who you do not want to be on the bad side of stare at me. Grubby, laughs at me as she twirls her knotted mass of hair. I ignore them. This is a competiton. I am here to win. Not to make friends. I fold the blanket and stuff it into the trash can.

•••

Training. The worst word I ever heard. One of our trainers, Eric, says it like it's no big deal.

"OK, we've partnered you up randomly. To some uh... regular tasks." he says "Dusters have to be brave, strong, fearless. If anybody feels they're not? Get out. OK? Nobody? Let's continue. There's some basic shall we say, skills, to becoming a duster. You don't just dust the corners, the top of tables, no, here we have provided some everyday objects that could use a little touch up. First one in the pair to dust effectively and fast wins. The other one is a loser. Yeah, this isn't Laundrity anymore, if you don't do well, you're a loser. Questions?" Floor steps up.

"OK umm... lets' have Pristina and Grubby, Greaser and Well, Bubble, I mean Ble and Tide-" the list goes on, but my heart stops. Ble and Tide. Tide and Ble. No way. Ble is big and strong, I am small, a Stain! Pristina nudges me. I give her a look of sympathy. Having to battle Ble is bad, but no match for Grubby. The meanest, scariest, biggest looking girl you'll ever see. I turn to Ble.

"Please don't kill me!" I ask. He smiles.

"I won't," he says. We all sit around the edge of a small dark room. There's a lit square in the middle where we are supposed to Dust Battle.

"First pair, ah let's take Greaser and Well." Floor says. Greaser stands up, cracks his knuckles and winks an Grubby. Well stands up too. He's a small kid. From Cleandor maybe? Pristina and Well obviously know each other, so my guess is he's from Cleandor too. They are each given there own duster. Nothing fancy. A G-64 dust-o-matic for each. Greaser has brought his own. He pulls a foldable duster out of his pocket. The latest model of Z-84 dust-monster. It snaps to full length, about 3 feet long. He pulls out the extension which brings it to about 6 or 7 feet. Well is dead. The ceiling opens and a chandelier emerges.

"The person who uses the best dusting technique wins," said Floor. Greaser reaches up to start dusting. Well jumps up, but he simply bounces off Greaser.

"Dude, just back off," says Greaser. Well frowns.

"Not without a fight." He punches Greaser as hard as his little fists allow him to. With one swift motion Greaser knocks Well to the ground. Well clutches his rib cage and groans. Dust falls in a perfect circle around Greaser. He's using a nice technique. Less motions, more power. He's almost done when Well stands up suddenly and charges at him. Thinking he's won, Greaser let's Well try, but this time, Well uses his G-64 to crack Greaser in the head. Greaser falls with a thud that almost shakes the room. Well smiles, and quickly reaches for the chandelier. It's too tall for him, so he starts to blow on it and fan it with the duster. His technique isn't the most effective, but it's working. Well has a chance! Pristina smiles. His victory is short as Greaser gathers himself and stands up. Picks Well up by his collar and slams him into the ground. I close my eyes. Greaser finishes the dusting job, and wins.

"Greaser wins," Floor says. There's a hint of disappointment in his voice. He was rooting for Well. "Alright, Pristiana and Grubby, let's go."

Pristina groans and goes to the floor. Grubby stands up too. Her shadow blocks most of the light in the room. Their new dusting challenge begins. A table. Nothing fancy. Grubby has her own duster. A Z-81 dust-monster. Not as fancy as Greaser's but it sure beats Pristina's H-33. Grubby laughs at Pristina's wimpy duster. She knocks Pristina to the side to start dusting. Pristina ducks and Grubby stumbles forward, giving Pristina a few seconds to show off her skills. She dusts slowly, but with a rhythm, unfortunately her rhythm get's off beat as Grubby knocks her to the ground. Pristina kicks at Grubby's ankles, but Grubby just gives Pristina a swift kick in the ribs. She gasps, but Grubby won't stop. She has a smile spreading over her face as she multi-tasks, kicking Pristina and dusting. Pristina rolls over. Bad move. Grubby's size 12 boot hits her square in the face. Blood starts to pour from her nose and a few tears well up in her eyes.

"Stop!" she says barely above a whisper.

"Oh I didn't hear you Squirt! You give up? I thought so!" Grubby laughs. Eric's eyes widen.

"You give up?" he says. "Come with me. It's time for you to learn a lesson"


	5. Pristina

Sorry everyone! It's been a while since I update, been busy working on other stories. I'm hoping to finish this up soon because I have other fanfictions that I want to work on, so expect updates often! I realized my parody is beginning to sound too much like the book, so I'm shakin' things up a little in this chapter.

Floor dragged Pristina to the edge of the river of acid waste that he'd shown us earlier. All at once I realized what was happening.

"Floor no!" I yelled. I shoved to the front of the crowd, but Well held me back. With a stern look on his face he motioned towards the railing.

"Climb over the edge. Now!" Pristina whimpered and with shaking hands made her way to standd on the few inches that remained between her and death.

"Now hang, for 3 minutes, if you fall, well, your loss," Floor said. I thrashed again, but Well had a surprisingly strong grip. Pristina's sweaty hands grasped the metal railing as she swayed side to side over the trench. Floor began to countdown. One of Pristina's shoes slipped of and vaporized into thin air. Her sock was beginning to singe off. Floor kept counting down. He seemed to be speeding up a little bit.

"C'mon Pristina!" I yelled. Her fingers were turning white. Suddenly they slipped. For a split second I literally stopped breathing and I'm guessing she did too. As if in slow motion her tight grasp wasn't tight enough and she slid off the railing. I screamed and finally broke loose from Well's arms.

Diving forward and reaching out to Pristina's hand. I felt her soft callused fingers lock with mine, but Pristina was surprisingly heavy. I used all the strength in me to hold on, but both of our hands, covered in dust and sweat weren't good enough.

"Please Tide, dust, be strong, dust for me." I began to slide forward as she continued falling. I felt my legs jerk as someone from behind grabbed them. Someone strong who was able to pull me back. I screamed again louder as Pristina's fingers broke free of mine and plummeted below. I pounded the hard floor. I bruised my wrist badly, but I didn't care. I did it again and screamed again. With a horrific sizzling noise of Pristina hitting the acid waste water followed by the crunch of her bones disinigrating Pristina was gone. A sweet smell fills the air, like vanilla scented soap. Like Pristina used to smell like.

Floor, who had saved me, pulled me up into a strong hug. It felt good to be embraced by his strong arms, but this wasn't the right moment. I hugged him back and stained his tshirt with tears. Everybody else probably thought I was crazy, but again, I didn't care. Suddenly reality struck me. It was his fault. I pulled away from Floor.

"You! Monster! You just killed her! You just KILLED her!" I screamed. Floor looked shocked.

"Me? I killed her? Who's the one who couldn't hold her up? Who's the one who let go? Huh? Not me!" he shot back. I glared at him through red puffy eyes.

"Me, I couldn't hold her, but I would've had to save her if you hadn't sentenced her to death in the first place!"

"She was weak!" Floor yelled "She didn't belong! And something tells me you don't belong here either. I can't wait until the test comes. We'll see who gets a faction then, Stain." I choked back a sob and let out my last scream for good measure. Floor remained stern.

"Training is over, I think I've proved my point," he said.

Back in my bunk I curled the blankets tight around me and bawled into the pillow. It wasn't Pristina's death that made me so upset, but Floor. I thought I could trust him, I was almost falling for him, and he turns out to be a demon. Distgusting. I feel someone sit down on my mattress.

"Go away," I say. I kick hard at this mysterious person.

"Hey!" I reconize the voice of Well.

"Sorry," I mumble and pull back the covers.

"You kicked my _gluteus maximus_!" he exclaimed. I laughed a little. Well should've been in Odorite. I sank back into the bed.

"Wanna do something fun?_" _he asked. I nodded even though the answer was no. He pulled back my covers completely and yanked me out of the bed. He pulled my down the corridors and out to the roof top. A few older Dustless were gathered.

"You brought a Stain?" one of them says disaprovingly. Well nods.

"Back off guys, she's pretty good," Well says in my defense. A murmur of 'whatevers' go through the crowd. I notice a zip line strung to some old telephone wires. A small sling hangs on the end. A boy slides in and someone else pushes him off. The sling shoots down the wires and he yells with joy. It looks fun, but dangerous, Dustless style. A few more are slung up and shoot off, suddenly I'm jostled to the front.

"Let's see how brave you really are, Stain," says a rough looking guy. He shoves me in the sling head first so my bottom half is sticking out.

"May I do the honors?" Well says in a fake sounding accent.

"Of course!" I reply in the same fakeness. He kicks me swiftly in the behind or my _gluteus maximus._ The sling shoots off before I have time to yell at him. I throw my arms out to the side and imagine that I'm flying. My heart beats so hard it hurts, and I can't scream, and I can't breathe, but I also feel everything, every vein, every fiver, every bone, and every nerve all awake and bugging in my body as if I'm charged with electricity, I am pure adrenaline! The wind hurts my face, but it feels good as I slide, no fly, along. Pristina would've loved this. A sickening guilty pit in my stomach drops. Pristina. The sling reaches the end of the zip line and I stumble off. We're back at Dauntless headquarters. Where Pristina should be. She should be here, laughing and joking about the ride, but she's not, because of Floor. No, Floor was right, because of me, because I was so selfish to join this stupid faction instead of sticking to molding stupid soap! How could I be so stupid?


	6. Soapttoo

**Hello! See I told you I'd write a better chapter! Here it is! Thanks for all the reviews! Keep on writing them! AND you should really check out whalefairyfandom12's Flowers Flourish When the Ice is Gone! (it's AMAZING!)**

After weeks of bloody noses, pain, and dust they had finally granted us with one day off. 24 hours of pure freedom! Ble, Well, and I strolled down the streets of Downtown Dustless. We were laughing and joking like we had been best friends forever, it almost seemed like we belong here, 3 Dustless chillin' out on their break, but this would only ever happen again if we all were ranked in the top 10. Which, unfortunately, in my case was highly unlikely.

"Hey! A soapttoo parlor!" Ble exclaimed. One run down building on the corner had a sign hanging sideways that read "Soapttoo International!". International, what a weird word. I had never heard it before so I assumed it was the name of the owner. Soapttoos are pretty much markings made on your skin. They stab you over and over again with vials filled with colored soap that dyes your skin. Soap is used because you can get lots of nasty infections with dye. We walked into the parlor. I hesitated, it reeked strongly of cheap squeeze soap and moldy bananas, but eventually gave in to the ghastly smell. I might of gotten a nasty infection just by breathing the air that was in there.

Ble and Well found open booths and disappeared, leaving me in the sitting room. I sat nervously shifting in my seat, which could've broken any minute. I looked strangely out of place in the room filled with hairy Dustless men. Every one of them probably had a shirt size of XXXXXL, and not because they were fat, because their muscles bulged out, abnormally large.

"Beatide?" I heard my name and whipped around. Squeaky was standing next to a booth with her arms crossed.

"Here for a Soapttoo?" she asked. I nodded and followed her into an open space.

"What do you want?" she asked. I realized that I hadn't actually though about that, I was too busy thinking of all the infectious diseases that could come out of this place. I looked around for inspiration and found a poster with lots of bubbles advertising the company.

"3 bubbles!" I said confidently "Right here." I motioned towards my collar bone. The three bubbles would represent my family, close to my heart. She agreed and started to fill vials.

"You don't have to pretend, Squeaky," I said.

"Pretend what?"

"Oh stop it! You know what I'm talking about! Detergent... ringing a bell?" She almost dropped a vial as she turned to face me.

"Shshshsh! You must never say that out loud again! J'clean Matthews could have spies looking for people like you in this parlor this very minute! I am risking my own life even talking to you about this! J'clean Matthews is smart, smarter than smart! And you best be acting smart too with a secret like that!" I frowned and slumped down in the chair.

•••

A day later, my new soapttoo still stung. Having 50 needles in your shoulder is not an easy task. Floor looked impressed at my new soapttoo when he saw me at training.

"Cool, Tide." he said. I smiled to myself, but then plastered a frown in it's place. Floor, didn't deserve me and I didn't want him! There was no future there at all! Maybe... no.

"Anyway," he said "Today your families have come to visit you. You have 5 minutes, then we'll do your pretest to the actual acceptance test. Alright, go find you families!" A small smile curled it's way onto his face, probably thinking of his own family. He looked pretty attractive when he smiled like that. The doors slid open and the non-Dusttless trainees joined them. I stood on my tiptoes trying to spot my Mom, which wasn't very hard. She stuck out like a soar thumb in plain Bathnegation outfit. I pushed and shoved my way through the crowd, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about my skin tight t-shirt. My Soapttoo! The thought struck me hard. What would Mother say?

"Beatide, we've missed you!" I embraced her in a tight hug.

"You know, Mother, I actually go by Tide now." She nodded approvingly.

"Tide, I like it! Has a very modern ring to it," she said.

"A Soapttoo!" she said it in a very stern voice, but I could tell she was joking.

"Yeah, about that..."

"I love it!" she said. I was a little surprised, but I smiled and hugged her again.

"You've grown so tall!" she said. I knew she was just being Bathnegation kind. I was still at least 2 inches shorter than her and everybody else for that matter. A bell sounded out, warning the parents that it was time to leave.

"Well goodbye," she said.

"I'll show you the way out!" I cried, hoping to buy more time with her.

"No, it's fine, I know the way. Tide, I'll miss you. Oh, and try to lavender soap. It's really quite lovely here." She handed me a package and left. I impatiently tore open the package. Inside was my very own Dust-o-Matic X-98! Small letters were engraved in the handle. _N. Prior. _I gasped as I realized what this meant. My mother, Bathnegation the to core, was a Dustless transfer.

•••

On my way back to my sleeping quarters, I met Floor on the balcony and stopped short.

"Hi" I said.

"I noticed you new soapttoo and I like it," he said. As if his approval of my soapttoo mattered!

"Do you have one?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"Can I see it?" I asked. He nodded and lifted the back of his shirt revealing his back covered in black markings. 5 circles in line ran down his back, each was the symbol of the different factions.

"Wow," I said.

"I don't want to be just a duster," he said and turned around "I want to make laundry soap, I want to mold bar soap, I want to make deodorant, and I want to scrub clothing!" We were incredibly close as he was saying this. He reached for my hand and stepped forward. There was a moment of silence, followed by the worst/best moment ever. He leaned forward lightly getting closer, too close, but I didn't back away. Our lips met and for second, I had my first kiss, and my last. I pulled back suddenly and slapped his cheek with the palm of my hand.

"No," I said "No" And with that, I turned and ran. I hated Floor. Hated him more that I hated Grubby and Greaser. Floor had just made himself my newest enemy.


End file.
